At the bustling station’s edge she stood,
A lace-clad handkerchief in her fingers’ brood.
Her breath, uneven, whispered the tale,
Of nervous heartbeats and dreams set sail.

Jitters danced with excitement’s tune,
Anticipation like a rising moon.
Her eyes would search but dare not meet,
The gaze of the man her letters greet.

Her heart, a drum, kept frantic time,
With thoughts that...